November 17, 2009

GOD’S SCOURGE AND MINISTER

Reflecting on our last entry, Bill and I have concluded that we’re actually fortunate to have people like the reverends Wicker and Wright. Their pronouncements work to restore in us a respect for qualities like restraint and generosity.

(To be fair, this applies only to yours truly. Aside from liberties taken with the swimming pool, and the occasional loss of control related to digging, Bill is always restrained and generous.)

Reverend Wright, as it now turns out, seems to revel in his new status as a celebrity. Remember? Appearing first on Bill Moyer’s PBS program last spring, he later agreed to have himself filmed delivering another of his fiery sermons.

In this one, he suggested the AIDS epidemic in Africa was the work of Americans. He thus convinced both Bill and me that I was wrong in thinking Wright would, if he could, take back his earlier appeals to God to damn America . No, he’s just one more self-promoter with no wish to temper his remarks so as to aid his one-time parishioner, the new President.

Then there’s Reverend Wicker. A special level of gratitude is owed to him, in recognition of the fit of apoplexy he seems willing to risk at any mention of gay marriage. But risk it he does, since nothing else seems to occupy his thoughts.

And I think Bill and I have figured out (that’s Bill the dog, not Bill Moyers) the reason for the great appeal Reverend Wicker holds for his huge flock. (Go see his church. It rivals the assembly building at Cape Canaveral.) The reason is this: Reverend Wicker has elevated the social and religious contract that binds two people in marriage to a level of such significance that civilization itself depends on it.

But the contract is only legitimate when drawn up between heterosexuals. This means married men and women with even the most modest skill sets, people who never thought about it before–or couldn’t–are now learning for the first time, from the good reverend, that the very sub-basement and foundation of civilization depends on them. This is significant. It’s dramatic and profound for such people to all at once learn that everything standing between human society and the Outer Darkness draws its strength from them.

Best of all, you don’t have to know anything. You don’t have to think or reflect in any way, because just being straight makes you personally responsible for civilization. So, let’s go again this Sunday. Let’s listen as Reverend Wicker once more tells us how important we are, just because we’re married.

But do we want others to share in this special status? No! It’s for us and us alone. Wicker says so. This way, it doesn’t matter whether we lack generosity of spirit, or knowledge of the scientific realities of homosexuality, or awareness of any of the positive attributes of all human beings excepting sociopaths. It doesn’t matter because we’re married, and straight. That’s our ticket to the game, our free pass to virtue and meaning.

I heard a good story. Curious about the behemoth size of Wicker’s church, two straight married men went one Sunday. Approaching the entry, one said to the other, “Should we give them a double whammy?” His friend asked how they would do it. “Just hold my hand.” In the end, they didn’t deliver the double whammy, but no matter. Straight or not, they must have looked, you know, that way: Not one of Wicker’s huge flock greeted the new visitors to their church, or in any way extended the hand of fellowship.

On second thought, better make that personship. We wouldn’t want a reference to fellows causing another Wicker seizure. Would we?